


What Happens in Afghanistan. Stays in Afghanistan

by GuardianQwerty



Series: Owen Granger Appreciation [2]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Cold, Comfort, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 19:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10367619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianQwerty/pseuds/GuardianQwerty
Summary: The generators at the mobile base in Afghanistan have stopped working and the base is frozen. How will they keep warm?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a piece about the relationship between Kensi and Owen, on a family level, nothing more. It delves into the reality of their relationship, or how I see it anyway.
> 
> If you don't like it don't read it.

Christmas Eve was rather depressing on base, everyone bar himself and Blye were left from the Task Force. Everyone else had been sent home for a three day Christmas break and Sabatino had gone out on a night time patrol, with some of the Marines on base. A Christmas tree was planted in the middle of the base, which Owen thought was a terrible way of reminding those that weren’t home, on what they were missing out. He wasn’t much of a Christmas cheer person anyway.  

Before Sabatino had gone out he had made a roast, which was definitely not turkey but tasted similar if not a bit salty. It was good but it was still a crappy night. It was freezing and the generators were still out, even with all the blankets, the shivering was too much. So instead of sitting there dying of the cold he made the decision to wake up and do something about it. Owen walked out of his bunk to find Blye dancing, headphones on, shaking to the beat, completely and totally unaware of what was going on around her. That’s one way to warm up, Owen thought as he lowered himself to the push up position. He may be old, but he still had to stay fit. He lowered down held for a few seconds then pushed up. He could hear the jumpy footsteps of Blye as she danced around the base, making the ground of the mobile base tremble ever so slightly. He didn’t really care though; this no doubt would probably be one of his last missions. He was getting too old for the weather changes, the stress and the combat. Even still sharp as ever, it was getting harder especially with the decreased in health he knew was happening. He had suspicions it was because of his contact with agent orange in past missions, but couldn’t do anything about it except keep working, undercover, in ops, overseas, etcetera. This is all he knew, he didn’t have any family apart from Hetty, and even she tried to kill him once. It was always that feeling, just one more mission, but he’d likely leave this job through a bullet.

By the time he hit fifty push-ups, he was still cold. So instead of continuing he stood up and went to the kitchen for a drink. By this time Blye was pulling her headphones out, puffing and looking tired. He turned away from the sink holding two glasses of water in his hands as Blye swivelled around. Her face jumped quickly from smiling to embarrassed and if her cheeks weren’t red from the dancing, she’d probably be blushing too.   
“Ahh, hi Sir, um, how long have you been standing there?” Her face screamed awkwardness, but Owen just walked forward, handed her the glass and sat down.  
“A couple of seconds, before that I was working out, doing push ups to the beat of your jumps. It’s certainly a good way to warm up.” Owen smiled; just small enough to enjoy the mortified look on her face.   
“Oh, ah, sorry you should have tol- ah said something. Sorry,”   
“Cool it Blye, I’m yanking your chain.” Owen replied, still enjoying the squeamish moment.   
“So my boss has a sense of humour, that’s a first.” It was Owen’s turn to be blushed, he knew he was gruff but surely not that bad.

  
“Funny business aside, do you have any idea when the generators are kicking back in? Only that I’m still no warmer even after that.” Blye broke the ice that had been forming after her last comment.   
“They said the new generators were coming when the rest of the task force comes back in two day, guess we are just going to have to stick with it for now.” Owen answered feeling colder than ever.  
“If Deeks were here, he would say you could cuddle for war-” Blye cut short, pulling her up on the words that were clearly about to make the conversation ten times worse.   
“If you are suggesting that we cuddle for warmth? It’s not an entirely stupid idea. But considering I’m your boss, things could get awkward. Still if you want to?” Owen cut in, it wasn’t at all a silly suggestion. The base electricity was down and would be for another two days before it was back online. They weren’t allowed fires, because of the risk of enemy Taliban seeing the smoke; and the blankets were as thin as sheets, gathering all of them together wouldn’t even keep you warm. The room reminded him of the time he was locked in an ice box as a form of torture in the 80s.  
“I mean it could work, as long as we avoid awkwardness.” Blye was actually considering this as an idea. She sat down next to him on the couch, closer than usual. Owen pulled a blanket over them. He could feel the warmth increasing and it was great. He hooked his arm around her and pulled her close, if anything it felt more like a father and daughter together after and long time, then a romantic relationship.

  
“This isn’t too bad. You remind me of my dad.” Blye replied, the tense feeling between them disappearing.   
“Way to make a man feel old.” Owen let out a small laugh, to ensure she knew he was being sarcastic.   
“You know I may not be your father, but I am proud of, of all of you. You’re a good team you guys get the job done no matter the cost and you all trust each other. I know once upon a time you all hated my guts, but I’m glad I stuck around to get to know you guys, especially Donald’s little girl. If I had a daughter I would be proud to call you my own and I know your dad would be proud of the woman you’ve become.” Owen was feeling slightly emotional, knowing he hadn’t left a mark on this world, but the connection to the person leaning against his chest felt almost as real as any family relationship.   
“You’re right in saying that we didn’t like you, and I wasn’t thrilled about this mission. But learning from everyone on the team has been an honour. Even from a grizzled veteran like yourself.” Blye replied relaxing into his arms. It felt like home, which was saying something.   
“Thank you Sir, for everything especially with my dad it’s appreciated.” By this time Owen had closed his eyes, and drifted to sleep with the warmth between the bodies making it easier. It was good to feel at home, even when they were so far from it.

* * *

 

The next morning when Owen awoke it was 7am, Sabatino was due back in ten minutes. They were still curled up on the couch, Blye was still sound asleep. Owen carefully replaced himself with a pillow and got up, rearranging the blanket back on Blye and headed to the kitchen. Stretching as he walked, he made he started pulling out butter and bread while thinking about last night’s talk. She may be his subordinate and he her boss, but he had never felt so close to someone, like family in a long time. It was a welcome change. After grabbing a glass of orange juice and his plate of bread, Owen sat down at the table, flipping through the notes of the current map data and yesterday’s mission reports.

The sound of a squeaky door was heard moments later and Sabatino came creeping in.  
“Good Morning Sabatino, good patrol?”  
“Sir, gotta say that was pretty dismal, eight hours and the only thing to come from it was confirmation on the evacuation of the North Taliban base. Arghh! And my trusty boots have finally failed,” answered Sabatino pulling his boots off to show the shredded laces and heel.   
“Well there are some spares down with the Marines, go get yourself a set ASAP.” Owen stated, knowing all too well that boots not broken in quickly can turn out to be any person’s worst nightmare.   
“I’m one step ahead of you sir.” He said holding up a pair of desert issue RAT boots.   
“I see our shooter fell asleep on the couch. Cold night, ehh?” Sabatino’s eyes had wondered to black sofa, where Blye was fast asleep.   
“Very,” Owen wasn’t about to bring up the nights events with anyone especially Sabatino.   
“Well the shower is calling me and the only heat as well.” Sabatino waltzed through the base towards the racks and dropped his gear right outside with a loud thud.   
“Sorry,” Owen ignored the cheeky smile as he watched him withdraw into the bathroom and Blye rise from her slumber.  
“Uuuhhhhhuuu, good sleep. What’s the time?” Blye said turning to Owen who had just finished his bread.   
“7:10, Sabatino just got back, seemed like a less than exciting patrol.” Owen said back to his gruff self.   
“Great, was kind of hoping for more info to help us forwards.” Blye said as she stood up and stretched. Before walking straight up to him, her eyes focused closely on his.  
“Sir, about last night. It was good to talk about everything, my dad, your role in my life. But we can’t mention any of it. The team will roast me if they find out.” Blye added a certain amount of melodrama to the last sentence, knowing all too well that she wasn’t wrong.  
“I agree, it was good, maybe we could chat more about it late. But I’d probably get lectured myself from Hetty about the protocols surrounding family and general subordinate communication. You’re safe.” Owen finished looking her dead in the eyes.  
“What happens in Afghanistan stays in Afghanistan.” 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, any feedback is appreciated!


End file.
